A Deep Divide

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  But it didn’t matter. Not really. As far as Mr. Ray Watkins Senior was concerned, she was only a waitress. She suspected his attitude would instantly change as soon as he knew who she really was. But why even give him that chance? He’d probably still look down upon her for lowering herself to the status of the working class. She should have known. Mr. Watkins Senior was exactly like every other rich man she’d known. Just like her father. They didn’t deserve the attention they received.

  Every harsh thing she’d ever thought about her own father came rushing back to the surface. All rich men were alike. Greedy. Selfish. Snobbish.

  Until she’d gotten to know Ray.

  But if Ray’s father didn’t like her, then what would he think when his son told him that they were getting to know each other better? What if the older man didn’t approve? Would he take that out on Ray? And was Ray prepared for the consequences?

  At this point, money didn’t matter to her. But what if, underneath it all, it actually did matter to Ray?

  As she went back to table one to refill their coffee, the senior Watkins was standing. “I believe I’ll retire for the evening now.” He straightened his exquisitely tailored suit and nodded to his son. “Let’s discuss business tomorrow morning over breakfast.”

  Ray stood with his father. “Yes, sir.”

  His father walked away without even acknowledging her, his chin lifted ever so slightly.

  “You’ll have to forgive my father.” Ray sat back in his seat and shook his head. “He hasn’t been well for some time now. I guess I hadn’t been willing to see it.”

  “Oh? He looks healthy enough.” She refilled his coffee so he could enjoy his still-uneaten cake.

  “I’m afraid it’s a sickness of his mind.” The sadness in his voice touched a deep place within her. “I haven’t wanted to say anything or even allow myself to think that it is true, but it’s become all too apparent to me now that he’s here.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” She turned to go.

  “Wait.” He cleared his throat. “Are you still able to join me for a stroll this evening?”

  It didn’t matter how the rest of the evening had passed, the eagerness in his tone made everything inside her zing to life. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

  An hour later, she stepped out the hotel’s doors. The evening was clear and cold. Emma Grace hadn’t even bothered to change out of her uniform. She’d simply wrapped her coat around her and met Ray out by the Hopi House.

  “I’m so glad you agreed to join me.” He looked like an expectant boy on Christmas morning. “Are you warm enough?”

  “I am. Thank you for asking.”

  They moved forward in an easy stroll and took the path on the rim.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this view.” His voice was low and hushed.

  “I agree. When I came here, I had planned for it to be for the rest of my life. Then when I saw the canyon for the first time, I knew for certain I wouldn’t want to leave.”

  “You’d like to stay here?” The question wasn’t accusatory.

  “I would. I haven’t been here all that long, and already I love it. The people. The distance from the big cities. The view.”

  “I take it you don’t like cities all that much?”

  “Not anymore.” Their steps on the dirt path were the only sound for several moments.

  “Is it because you grew up in Boston?”

  She shrugged. “Probably. . . .” She couldn’t tell him her real thoughts on the matter or why. Emma Grace looked at Ray from the side. He didn’t push or insist on any explanations. He simply waited. “What about you? You said you didn’t think you’d ever want to leave this view, but don’t you need to return to Chicago at some point?”

  He let out a long sigh. “You know, my whole life all I ever wanted was to be able to follow in my father’s footsteps and be at the helm of his business. But then, a few years ago, I had an experience that changed my outlook on life. Ever since, I’ve been a bit unsettled. And the closer I get to the Lord, the more my dreams change. The thing is, now I don’t know how I would tell my father that, especially since I’ve noticed the decline in him.”

  “What was it that changed your outlook?” Her curiosity was piqued. “Or if I’ve overstepped in asking, I’m sorry.”

  “You haven’t overstepped. I brought it up. But I will warn you that it’s something I haven’t shared with anyone else other than a trusted pastor. Not since it happened.”

  “All right. I appreciate the fact that you trust me with the story, but you don’t need to feel obligated. I understand you don’t know me very well.” Though she was giving him a way out if he didn’t want to tell her, now she really wanted to know what it was that had turned his life around.

  “After I graduated from college, I came home quite full of myself, convinced that I was ready to take over for my father. I was your typical spoiled rich boy.” He took a long, deep breath. “I’m ashamed of who I was back then, but I’m glad that God loves each one of us and forgives us no matter what we’ve done. Or what we’ve been.” He stopped walking. “Do you mind if we stop? As much as what I have to say is difficult, I don’t want to hide from you. And I need to see your face as I share the rest.”

  “Of course.” She turned to face him and tucked her hands into her coat pockets. Whatever it was, it sounded pretty intense. Was she ready for this?

  “One evening, I had an argument with my father because I was determined that he needed to allow me to be in charge of something. He put me in my place, and I went off in a little tantrum. My mother then scolded me as well. Then I ran out the door and demanded that Jones—our butler—bring my new automobile around. He did. And I took off down the drive in a rage.”

  He looked down at his feet. “Looking back, I’m ashamed. How I acted. How selfish I was.” His head came up, and he stared into her eyes.

  She saw all the pain and heartache there. His need for forgiveness was plain on his face.

  “Our home is tucked into one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Chicago, and it’s at the top of a hill. The drive is quite long.” He blew his breath out between his teeth. “I picked up speed down and around the drive, completely uncaring about anything else. Until I saw a hoop cross the drive and I knew there was a child with a stick behind it. Everything rushed at me in that moment as I pulled the brakes. My whole, selfish life. My attitude. My greed. It was horrifying. And then . . . I hit a little boy with my automobile.”

  She gasped, and her hands flew to cover her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “The boy lived.” Ray held up his hands and then put them back at his sides. “I have to tell you that before I continue. Not that it makes what I did any better. But it was the most horrible thing I’ve ever endured. I was reckless, and I put that child in danger.”

  It took several moments for her heart to slow down. What an awful thing to go through.

  The look on his face was broken. Grief-stricken.

  She reached out and touched his arm. “So . . . what happened?”

  “I took the boy to the hospital and waited with his family. They were angry at first, as they had every right to be. But when the news came that Thomas was going to be all right—he had a broken arm and a lot of bruises—the couple sat down in the waiting room right then and there and started thanking God. I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t a good person back then. You’ve probably already figured that out from the beginning of my story, but something inside me wanted whatever it was that the Wright family had.

  “When I got home, my father informed me that he had taken care of everything with the police and the press and so nothing would get out about his son being a reckless driver. He was embarrassed by me. He yelled at me for a good hour and told me he’d never be able to trust me. I deserved it. And I knew it. But the next day, I went back to the Wrights’. Then the next. And the next. That little boy taught me more about forgiveness than anyone else in
my entire life. A few days later, a man came to visit me. His name was Reverend James. The Wrights’ pastor.” He shifted his weight. “Are you still warm enough?”

  “I am.” At this point, she didn’t even think about the temperature. She yearned to know what had made the difference in Ray’s life. “Please continue.”

  “That man stayed with me for six hours that day. I told him everything. How selfish I’d become, what drove me to racing down the drive. I thought that if I confessed it all, he would give me the magic formula for how to take away the guilt and shame.”

  “Did he?” Her heart ached to find out how to heal itself.

  “Over time. It wasn’t an instant fix that day. I was still stubborn and immature. But thankfully, Reverend James had an abundance of patience. We talked a lot over the next few weeks. And I spent a good deal of time with the Wright family.” Ray rubbed his hands together, a deep furrow in his brow. “You see, I desperately knew I wanted forgiveness. That little boy and his family understood forgiveness. So, I asked them how I could have what they had. I was a sinner—I still am. But I needed a Savior. And I had to be willing to admit that and see my need—that I can do nothing in and of myself. I went from being an extremely selfish young man to actually being able to put others first.”

  “Did you feel a difference right away?” It was hard to imagine that Ray was once the young man he described, knowing the man who stood before her now. And yet, hadn’t she lumped all wealthy men into the same category? Maybe this was the difference.

  “I did. Although I admit that God had to work on me for at least six months to get my attitude to completely change. Like I said, it wasn’t an instant fix. But faith has changed everything for me. I’ve learned that God loves each one of us, no matter what we’ve done, or who we’ve been, or how we’ve treated other people. He loves the man who murders his brother. He loves the preacher who screams about hell, fire, and brimstone. He loves the wayward child who seeks his own way and selfishly hurts those around him. That’s why Scripture teaches us that we are to do two things: love God with everything that we are and love others. That’s what I aim to do for the rest of my life.”

  She looked away for a moment. His faith was just like Ruth’s and Frank’s, and it was so different than what she’d grown up with. She’d never met anyone who believed this way, and somehow she was now surrounded by people who were sharing this and living it.

  “What are you thinking, Emma Grace? I hope I didn’t scare you away with my story.” He reached for one of her hands. “I promise you, I am not that man anymore.”

  “No, you didn’t scare me away. But I have more questions than I have answers.” She glanced down at their hands. He so reverently held hers like she was fragile and precious. “May I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t have a Bible of my own anymore. Do you perchance have one that I could borrow?”

  “I will go grab it right now.” The sweet look on his face did more for her heart than she wanted to admit.

  14

  Emma Grace was awake long before the sun arose. She’d practically been awake all night. She’d tossed and turned and spent a night in fitful unrest because her mind couldn’t let go of the verses Frank and Ruth had shared with her. Because Ray’s confession and story he’d shared in all humility had wrenched her heart. And because she was a broken mess.

  Tears had come off and on throughout the night. Confusion clouded her judgment. All the different voices from past and present warred with each other. She’d tried to read the Bible that Ray had brought to her, but every time she read, there were more voices screaming in her head.

  Every cynical and ugly thought had come out in the dark of the night. Lifting her hands to the sides of her head, she stared at the ceiling. “Stop it.” Her whispered words to the room around her broke the silence that engulfed her and pressed in. Funny how that same silence had been so loud and threatening.

  She let her hands fall at her sides on the bed. “‘I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.’” As she said the words, her heart felt lighter. “‘I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.’” The confusion and sparring thoughts stopped. This time the silence that followed felt clean. Peaceful.

  With more strength in her voice this time, she repeated the verse again and again.

  The weight of the night lifted from her shoulders, and she sat up on her bed. She pulled Ray’s Bible back into her lap and went back to reading. He’d advised her to read the book of John and had marked it for her.

  She’d read through the entire book last night. Jesus became real to her for the first time. But then she’d allowed the negative thoughts to overcome everything else.

  Flipping the pages to chapter fourteen, she took a breath and scanned the chapter until she came to verse twenty-seven, one that had stood out to her. With her finger sliding underneath each word, she read it aloud. “‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.’”

  God, I’m struggling with my fear. I don’t even know if You are listening to me but I’m seeking You. Please help me to find Your peace.

  She looked down at the book in her lap. There weren’t any other words to say. Ray had said that faith had changed everything for him. Not being good. Not anything else. Faith. If only she could have that same faith.

  Her alarm clock’s shrill ring made her jump.

  It was time to start another long day.

  She climbed out of bed, straightened the bedding, and set the Bible on top of her pillow. Then she remembered Frank’s words about thanking God first.

  As she dressed, she focused on everything she was thankful for. The more she listed, the more she realized how much had changed in the weeks she’d been at El Tovar.

  She loved her work. Loved the people here. And in the evenings, she had something to look forward to—her walks with Ray. She should just strive to have a positive attitude and make the best of each day.

  With one last look in the mirror, she patted her hair and pushed her glasses up her nose. Oh, to not have to disguise herself each day. It was selfish and prideful, but she longed to be able to wear her hair looser. Longed to be herself. For so many years, it hadn’t mattered to her because all that mattered was hiding. The looming threat of Mr. Wellington finding her and forcing her into marriage as he stole her father’s company had always been at the forefront of her mind.

  While that fear still lingered in her thoughts, a new hope had sprung up.

  Emma Grace closed and locked her door and headed up to the dining room. Best to focus on the hope rather than the fear. There had to be a way for her to change things. There had to be.

  When she reached the dining room, the fabulous scent of the famous Harvey coffee filled her nose. That’s what she needed first. Coffee. It might be the only way to combat her lack of sleep from the previous night.

  Ruth was already in the kitchen, making a list for each of the waitresses that day.

  Chef Marques and his staff bustled around in perfect rhythm. There wasn’t any chatter, just the sounds of bubbling and simmering and the stirring of pots.

  Ruth lifted her gaze from the paper she’d been writing on. “Good morning.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Good morning.” Emma Grace studied her friend’s face. The joy that was there seemed to ooze out from her skin. That’s what Emma Grace wanted. “How are things looking for today?”

  “Busy as usual. But I think we will be able to keep things moving like a well-oiled machine. We are Harvey Girls, after all.” Her cheeky grin made Emma Grace want to giggle.

  “That we are.” She reached for a cup and poured herself some coffee. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

  “Could you check with Pierre about the butter? They were almost ready for us to press it.” Ruth went back to her list.

  “Of
course.” Emma Grace took a sip and put her cup back down. But as soon as she reached Pierre, he grinned at her. One of the kitchen crew already held a large tray containing the circles of chilled butter and was headed in her direction. She turned on her heel. That cup of coffee was calling to her.

  Mr. Owens was speaking with Ruth when she came back. He noticed her and beckoned her with a finger.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t make him happy.

  She stepped up to them and looked from his face to Ruth’s. “Well, this doesn’t bode well.”

  He held out a piece of paper. “This telegram just arrived.” Mr. Owens’ face was a bit pale as he handed her the paper. “I know it says not to show you, but I think it’s only right that you should see it.”

  She took the paper and searched her friend’s face. Ruth appeared stunned. Emma Grace told herself to breathe and opened the paper.

  Urgent. Looking for young woman, early twenties, worked as Harvey Girl. Goes by Emma Grace. Important legal matter. Do not alert her to my inquiry. Her life is at stake. Respond within twenty-four hours with yes or no to her presence.

  Peter Samson—Pinkerton Agent

  With a gulp of air, she folded the paper and handed it back to the manager. Was this sent to scare her? How many places had the man sent telegrams to? Would he be able to find her? She swallowed before she could speak. It didn’t do her any good to get worked up about it. But that didn’t keep her heart from pounding in her chest. “What do you think it means?”

  “I’m not quite sure.” The manager nodded to the head waitress. “That’s why I came to show it to Miss Anniston.”

  “Ruth?” Her voice squeaked, giving away the terror she was trying to hide. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t like it. That’s for certain. It definitely sounds as if someone has come close to finding you. Whether it’s someone with ill intentions or not, I don’t know. But I told Mr. Owens that we needed to protect you.” She patted Emma Grace’s shaking hand. “And we will. I promise.”

  Mr. Owens’ frown eased. “I agree. If this man is really a Pinkerton, why would he tell me not to inform you? Especially if your life was at stake, like he says. It makes me very suspicious. I’m not going to answer the telegram. It’s perfectly valid for him to think it was never received. There’s more than eighty Harvey Houses across the country. What are the odds of someone traipsing all the way out here? If he doesn’t receive an answer, it’s not like he’ll think to come here. I think that will be the end of it.”